


Perfect Little Family

by oonymay



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, At least around the elven bit, Elves, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Families of Choice, Fluff, Getting Together, I feel like there are mild lotr vibes coming through, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plus a smidgen of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonymay/pseuds/oonymay
Summary: PROMPT:Kun and Ten are from warring elven factions and cannot stand the sight of each other. On a particular outing, they both chance upon a trespasser in their neutral zone. A human; more specifically, an abandoned human infant.--In which Kun and Ten find a crying child in a forest and naturally decide that raising it in secret is the best option. And therein begins a battle with languages, the meaning of home and feelings.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 51
Kudos: 391
Collections: Weishen Fest: ANYTHING BUT HUMAN





	Perfect Little Family

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! 
> 
> New fic, new story that got slightly out of control and ended up longer than I wanted it to be. Lots of fun. 
> 
> This was written for the Weishen Fest round 2: Anything But Human. To the prompter -- thank you so much for submitting it, I had so much fun writing it :) I hope that you enjoy it and that I at least met some of what you were hoping for <3 
> 
> Please note, there is a very short mention of blood and implied offscreen character death. If you want more info about that before proceeding, feel free to leave a comment and I'll let you know :)

The room was motionless. Eight elves sat, four per side, down a long table and, at the head, two glared at each other. Kun’s eyes flickered between them and he picked at the skin around his fingernails just out of sight.

“It’s not our problem,” the elf on Kun’s side hissed, “if you’re warring with humans. We have our own political standings and they have nothing to do with the Aithay Faction.”

The elf opposite scowled. “Humans hate all elves. They will attack your faction as well, and you’ll be without assistance. It is no secret that we Aithay elves have superior defence; do you want to be left to your own devices?”

“We will not accept aid from the likes of you and your faction,” someone else from Kun’s side said, slamming her fist onto the dark, wooden table. “Are you forgetting some of your soldiers killed Inso innocents on the border mere days ago?” The intricate braids in her hair swung around her face as she shook with anger. “Do you think we are desperate?”

Kun scanned down the faces opposite him. The two, leading Aithay panel members wore scowls decorated with poisonous eyes. The third stared at the wood grain in the table, as if wishing he could be anywhere else. The last member, directly in front of Kun, watched with mild interest and twisted a thin piece of cord between his fingers.

Kun knew all the delegation members. He had spent years coming to these summit meetings where, to date, they had achieved nothing. The Aithay and Inso Elven Factions, the two largest in their region, had held these conferences since the end of the First Elven Battles, with brief intermissions during other warring periods.

For longer than Kun had been alive, the two factions had held a tense truce with each other. There was not outright war, but they always seemed one badly aimed jab away from it. Border skirmishes were common and had only increased in frequency since Kun started working in diplomacy. Tensions with human settlements that edged ever-closer to the Elven borders were getting worse, too, and the conferences they held to resolve the issues had become more and more futile.

“According to our knowledge, it was Inso elves that instigated it,” the elf opposite Kun drawled. Ten, Kun knew his name to be. The Aithay Faction had appointed him to delegations around the same time as Kun. “Are you suggesting our soldiers are making false reports to us?”

Kun swung around to face him. “Are you suggesting that ours are, in that case?”

Ten looked him up and down and pulled the piece of cord tight between his hands. “I’m suggesting that last time there was an investigation into something like this, it was Inso elves on the offensive.” His voice was wicked, soft as silk but filled with venom.

“And the time before that, it was Aithay border guards who, according to your own laws, are not to act in offence unless under instruction from your High Court,” Kun replied, staring him dead in the eyes.

The leader of Kun’s delegation turned to him. “Kun, after this conference adjourns, go to the incident site and make a full report.” His words were bitter, but they always were in these meetings. Kun could not hold it against him.

Not to be outdone by their rivals, Ten’s leader narrowed her eyes in Kun’s direction. “Ten, accompany the Inso delegate and use your resources to assess the situation. I know you will not let us down.” She whipped her head back to the front and returned to her tirade about the incoming human war.

When Kun looked at Ten, he was met with a smirk. He sighed and began preparing himself for a nightmare.

Kun had done so many Inso-Aithay Incident Reports that he knew the process inside out, back to front and could probably piece it together in more languages than he knew how to speak. They were long, arduous and, more often than not, filed away to the basement never to be seen at again. Still, it was one of Kun’s primary responsibilities, and he was good at it.

So, Kun walked alongside Ten to the site through thick, damp forest that loomed high into the sky above him. The Aithay elves were used to it and Ten seemed to thrive as he bounced along the paths, a pack jolting up and down with each step. His light clothing perfectly suited the humid atmosphere, while Kun struggled to keep up in his woven robes that were better suited to the colder, drier areas of the main Inso cities.

Ten turned around, an impish grin plastered across his face. “What’s wrong? Can’t keep up?” It was the first time he had directly addressed Kun since they had departed from the meeting. He used the standard Elvish tongue, as they did in all delegate meetings. Their own Inso and Aithay dialects had grown so far apart over the years they were mutually unintelligible.

“Not all of us grew up with thunderstorms every day,” Kun grumbled. He pushed a large, leafy plant away from his face and scowled.

“Too bad,” Ten snipped, “It’s a great character-building experience. Not that I suppose you would know, though.” He twisted to walk forwards again and Kun was left to stare at his back, completely unimpressed.

The site was well out of the way; it took several hours of walking to clear the rainforest and then almost two days further to find the more sparsely vegetated and drier area of the reported incident site. They approached on foot, shuffling over sandy dirt while the harsh sun beat down on them without relief.

As they went, Kun could not help but think it didn’t look like there had been any kind of skirmish around. The entire area looked pristine, almost untouched by elves or anyone else. There certainly did not seem to be enough destruction to warrant a report.

Then, Ten froze mid-step and Kun almost walked into him.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Kun’s head darted around as he tried to locate what Ten had looked at. His heart did a strange dance as the noise registered and he moved slowlywith shivers running up and down his back. Ten’s confused eyes stared back at him.

“Is that… Is that a kid?” Ten asked. The words were slow, deliberate, and lost.

Kun nodded slowly, not entirely sure what to say. It sounded like a child, but what a kid would be doing in the middle of an apparently deserted conflict spot was a complete mystery to him. There was no good reason for it and the beginnings of dread settled into his stomach.

“We should see if they’re okay…” Kun said. Without waiting for Ten, he took large steps toward the cries. Ten hurried to catch up, swearing softly under his breath in the Aithay dialect.

It only took a minute for Kun to pull to a halt, his eyes transfixed on a tiny figure huddled by a tree to the side of a clearing. It took no genius to see why no one who might have passed by would have helped them: the child was human. The clothes identified that fact from miles away.

Ten swore, louder. “You have to be kidding. A human?” He scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “You’re dealing with it,” he said to Kun, prodding his shod foot into Kun’s calf and pushing him forward. “I don’t want anything to do with crying kids, human or otherwise.”

Kun glared at him. “What? Too afraid to catch the human germs?”

“Rather you than me,” Ten said, crossing his arms across his chest like an insolent teenager.

Kun gave him an unimpressed look and crept towards the child, trying to keep his mind deliberately clear of all the historical attacks on Elven factions that humans had carried out over the years. This was a child; they did not even look old enough to left be alone at home, let alone in the middle of a forest.

A branch cracked beneath Kun’s foot and the child spun around. A boy, then, with hair cropped close to his head and features that should have been rounded with more baby fat than they were. His cries cut off but his lower lip quivered as he stared up at Kun.

Kun paused for a second and lowered himself into a crouching position. He could feel Ten’s eyes piercing into the back of his head and the child’s reluctance as he inched forward.

The child stayed as still as a rock and continued to stare at Kun.

“What’s your name?” Kun’s voice was as gentle as he could make it and he gave the human what he hoped was a kind smile.

There was silence.

Kun dropped onto the floor of the clearing, crossing his legs in front of himself and repeated the question.

The child did not move a muscle. If anything, he looked even more lost than before.

From somewhere behind him, Kun heard the distinctive sound of Ten sighing. “Use the common tongue, you moron,” he hissed and Kun could feel the bite of the venom, “It’s a human. Why the hell would it speak Elvish of any type?”

Kun turned around and glared at Ten, who stuck his tongue out in response. If there had not been a child a few meters away, Kun would have sworn at him. Taking a deep breath, he swivelled back to the child and asked again in the common language.

This time, there was definitely recognition in the kid’s eyes. He fiddled with a tassel on the tunic he wore and waited a long few seconds before replying. “Yangyang.” The voice was high and so quiet that Kun struggled to hear it. As soon as the words were out, the kid shuttered again and looked away.

Kun shuffled closer on his bottom. “Yangyang? Is that right?”

The kid nodded and did not back away as Kun moved a little further toward him again.

“Yangyang, do you know where your parents are?”

The tears that had just stopped before turned on again at full force as the kid toppled forward into Kun’s lap, his body shaking with sobs.

For a moment, Kun was shocked into stillness. Then, he placed a gentle on Yangyang’s back and rubbed it in light circles. Tears were already soaking into his clothes in what he was sure would look like a suspiciously placed wet-patch.

There was nothing he could do, though, aside from sitting there and wait for the child to stop crying.

Trying not to move the child, Kun twisted back to look at Ten. They made eye contact and the one emotion that Kun had been trying to suppress rang through: panic.

Kun had scarcely crossed paths with humans before, he had no idea where the child’s parents were (and given the kid’s reaction, Kun didn’t imagine there was an answer he would be excited about hearing), and Ten was still standing at the edge of the clearing as useless as ever.

The kid—Yangyang—did not stop crying for what felt like forever. Kun’s clothes were thoroughly wet with tears and even Ten had given up his distancing as he came to sit by them both, albeit still a good few arm’s lengths away. He had his hands over his ears, too, as if that would protect him from the wails.

Kun rocked the boy gently, not entirely sure what to do. Surely it could not be so different from an elven kid, but even Kun’s experience with children of any species was limited. He enjoyed being around them enough, but if they started crying, he could pass them off to their parents. Being the person responsible for comforting a child was an unfamiliar experience, and not one he was sure he was doing an outstanding job of so far.

All he had established was the child’s name and that his parents were a touchy topic. Not exactly a stellar start.

The child’s face was red and puffy, his eyes bloodshot as he clung to Kun like he was the last thing he had in the world. Kun hoisted the boy fully into his lap and moved from side to side, humming an ancient lullaby that his parents had sung to him when he was younger.

After a few cycles, the boy’s tears quieted. A few more, and they had stopped altogether as he fell asleep in Kun’s arms. His breaths came in slow puffs that were slightly rough from his sobs.

The end of the crying was a welcome relief to Kun’s ears, but he could not bring himself to be even remotely pleased. His stomach was heavy and his heart even more so as he stared down at Yangyang. He looked like a ten-year-old Elven child, which meant, as a human, he must only have been four or five.

Kun raised his eyes to look at Ten, who was gawking. He had removed his hands from his ears and chewed on his lip. “It’s a human,” he said, slowly, like the realisation was only just dawning on him.

A flare of irritation fired through Kun. “Oh, congratulations. Do you want an award for realising?” he snapped and quickly recoiled at his own words. They sounded harsher out loud than they did in his head.

Ten did not seem to register at all, as he repeated, “It’s a human.”

“He’s a boy,” Kun corrected. He hugged the boy closer to his chest.

“Don’t tell me you care for it,” Ten said, aghast. At Kun’s look, he corrected himself. “Him, then. You do, don’t you?”

Ignoring the twisting in his gut that said otherwise, Kun shook his head. “I’m just going to kill you if you wake him up again. Or if you make him cry again at all.” All he felt was an obligation. It was impossible to find a crying child in the forest and not feel obliged to make sure they were taken care of. 

Ten gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay, whatever. Sure. What exactly are you planning to do with him? It’s not like you can take him back to your faction.” He crossed his arms and leant forward.

Kun’s stomach sank further. Ten had a point. His faction would never welcome a human into their midst, and he didn’t have to ask to know that Ten’s wouldn’t, either. The closest human settlements were days away and Kun did not like his chances of walking into one and coming out alive. They could not leave the child, either; Yangyang clearly was not old enough to be self-sufficient and Kun’s conscience would eat him alive.

“We’ve got a week,” Kun said finally. “It’ll take a week to write the report, and we can work out what we do then.”

“ _We_?” Ten repeated. He sounded more unimpressed than he looked, which was quite an achievement. “I’m not taking responsibility for a human child. He’s your problem.”

Kun struggled to stand up without disturbing Yangyang. “Fine, then. But I’m going to find somewhere to set up camp and make something to eat. Are you coming or not?”

Ten gave him a bitter look. “Stop mocking me. You know I was told to keep tabs on you at all times.” He pushed himself to his feet, too, and shouldered his bag.

Shrugging, Kun did not wait for him before continuing to the incident site. He could not help think, though, that the directions from delegates had never stopped Ten, nor any other Aithay elves, from setting up camp as far away as possible from Kun when they had done these incident reports before. 

The officially listed site, identified by a huge clearing with trees bordering one half, a jagged cliff-face fencing in the other side and a shallow set of hollows in the rock, was close by and completelyunremarkable. Nothing there looked out of place, no elves lingered in the area, even the wind seemed to avoid it. It was a dusty patch with a few stubborn smatterings of grass that looked like they had not seen rain in a week. 

Kun’s eyes roamed the perimeters until they settled on one of the shallow caves in the cliff-face. It didn’t go back very far, but it was more than suited to house him and Yangyang for a few days. ( _Ten, too, if he could put aside his pride for long enough_ , Kun thought).

The cave was not quite the cascading stone staircases of the Inso Capital Building, but it would do. Kun had slept rougher before on these scouting-style trips. In any case, he was an elf; his species was about as well adapted to nature as it got in their world. They were built to live out in the wild, even if most Elves were now based in townships or cities. 

With a sleeping Yangyang still in his arms, Kun scuffed his shoes along the floor and nodded in satisfaction while Ten watched with an unimpressed look.

“Is it good enough, your majesty?” Ten asked, dropping his sack by a wall.

Kun narrowed his eyes at him. “Perfect, thank you. I would have thought it would be you who would struggle. Aren’t Aithay elves known for their decadence?”

Glaring at him, Ten did not have an immediate response. Kun walked over to him in a few, quick strides. “You hold Yangyang. I’m going to collect water.” Without waiting, he dropped a lifeless Yangyang into Ten’s arms.

Ten squeaked. “What the hell? No, I can collect water.” He held Yangyang like he was dangerous. “Don’t give me the kid to look after, fuck.”

“Watch your language, that’s a child,” Kun said without skipping a beat.

“He’s human, asleep, and,” Ten snarled, “He doesn’t understand standard elvish, you fucking idiot.”

Kun looked the scene up and down. It really did look like Ten was waiting for someone to cite Yangyang as poisonous so he had an excuse to drop him as soon as possible. Gears locked into place in Kun’s mind. “You don’t like kids, do you?”

Glaring at him, Ten produced a sound something like a growl. Maybe it would have been slightly more effective if he didn’t look like he thought Yangyang was about to explode. “Well, just because we don’t all love kids,” he spat and then huffed loudly without finishing the sentence.

“Love kids?” Kun repeated in mild disbelief. “You have to be kidding.”

He turned to leave but Ten spoke again before he could get out of hearing distance. “Fuck, don’t actually leave me with him!” he said, rushing to catch up with Kun. Yangyang’s head lolled on his shoulder. “I’m not dealing with him if he wakes up.”

“Suit yourself,” Kun said, and he continued walking.

Another scowl passed over Ten’s face, but he lifted his shoulder to stop Yangyang’s head jolting left to right every time he took a step and shifted him a little higher before following.

By the time they got to dusk, Ten had gathered enough dry wood to set up a small fire and keep it well-fed, while Kun had put together a simple meal. The packs they had carried for the two days they walked here were stashed against a rocky wall while their blankets had been spread out across the ground ready for the night.

Ten might not have liked Yangyang, but he was not cold-hearted enough to refuse to surrender his blanket when Kun had asked. Apparently even he had morals when it came to a child, whether or not they were human. 

Yangyang had slept the entire time, curled up into a tiny ball that Kun and Ten took in turns to hold depending on what they were doing. It was such a stark difference to any other time that they had ended up in the same place at the same time that Kun felt like he was tripping over himself to do anything. 

It had not taken long for it to become apparent that it was impossible to do things without help. There was no way to hold a sleeping child while also setting up, or stockpiling wood, or setting a fire. Much to Ten’s distaste, Kun gave him little choice about minding Yangyang, because as it turned out, Ten was also incapable of dropping Yangyang once he was holding him, even if he swore under his breath the entire time.

Kun only had only brought rations for himself and now he had to cook for an additional child and presumably Ten, too. It felt rude to not make sure he had food when he was the one who had started the fire Kun was cooking over and was now sitting next to it with Yangyang between his legs.

In less than half a day, Ten had come to terms with the fact that Yangyang was not about to kill him, although he still did not look entirely happy about their current arrangement. It was almost impressive. If Kun had not found him so irritating, he might have given his congratulations. 

Kun shook his head and scolded himself. _Why was he the slightest bit concerned about what Ten was doing?_ He returned to the food and then paused as he went to divide it up.

“Do you have a plate?” Kun asked, quiet to avoid waking Yangyang.

Ten looked up at him with a startled expression that was eerie against the flicker of fire. “What? Why?”

Kun stirred the food in the pan. “I only have stuff for myself, and I figured you’d want food, too…” He trailed off and looked away from Ten. The heat from the flames was not helping the burning of his cheeks.

“You, uh, cooked for me?” Ten asked. He sounded even more surprised now but made no movement to get up and find any dish he had bought.

Something in Kun’s stomach twisted. “Do you want the food or not? Because, if you don’t, I’m sure Yangyang and I will happily eat it by ourselves.” He winced at the defensive tone his voice had taken on.

Ten held up a hand in surrender. “Geez, I didn’t mean to offend your pride or whatever. I’ll go get it if you take the kid for me.”

Frowning, Kun chose not to respond as he took Yangyang from Ten and shook him awake. “Yangyang,” he whispered, returning to the Standard Tongue, “Wake up. Yangyang? I’ve made some food for you?” He pushed Yangyang’s shoulder back and forth until two large, sleepy eyes reflected at him.

He sat up, leaning heavily against Kun and rubbed a fist against his eyes. “Food?” he repeated, still sounding out of it.

“Soup,” Kun confirmed. “You know soup, right?”

Yangyang looked at him with something close to disdain. “I know soup. Mama used to…” He trailed off, and his bottom lip trembled. “Mama used to…”

Hopelessly, Kun shushed him and hugged him to his chest as he swayed side to side. “Don’t worry, okay? We’ll find your mama. But, you’re hungry, yes? Let’s have some soup.”

Yangyang sniffled but nodded. Thank the Gods that kids were easily distracted, at least most of the time. Kun did not let him go, though, and gestured for Ten to divide up the food himself when he returned.

Ten nodded and set about dividing it into portions. He poured a serving into Kun’s bowl, but only a little into his own before setting the pot down. Before Kun could say anything, he had picked up one bowl in each hand and was shuffling towards Kun with them. He set the two dishes down and then reached behind himself to pick up the pot.

“It makes more sense for Yangyang to have a bowl than the pot,” he said in hesitant Elvish.

Kun blinked at Ten. That thought had not crossed his mind and, without thinking, he gave an appreciative nod. He disregarded his own bowl, though, as he sat Yangyang down on his knees and coaxed him into eating.

“It’s nice,” he said, raising the soup to Yangyang’s mouth. “And it’s warm, too. It’ll fill up your tummy and give you really good dreams tonight.” He tried not to let his desperation bleed into his coos.

Yangyang chewed on a plump lip and looked at the liquid dubiously. In all fairness, Kun supposed it looked different from the human food he had presumably grown up eating.

Opposite them, Ten nodded and took an exaggerated gulp of his portion. “Yummy! It’s really tasty, Yangyang.” There was what Kun could only describe as pain lingering under his tone as he forced a smile, but it did exactly what it needed to. Yangyang gave him a wobbly smile and finally took the bowl from Kun and sipped.

For the second time in a few minutes, Kun considered bending down on his knees to thank Ten before reprimanding himself. He bit his tongue, hard, and started on his own food as he continued to monitor Yangyang out of the corner of his.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Within moments of finishing, Yangyang was already dozing off with his head on Kun’s shoulder while Ten watched on with mild interest.

“Kid must be exhausted,” he remarked, leaning back on his hands which he had propped behind himself. “He’s literally slept the entire day.” With the child asleep, he returned to standard Elvish. While all elves were raised to speak fluent Standard, Kun knew none that chose to do so if they had the option.

Kun lowered Yangyang into a more stable position and ran his hands through knotty, dirty hair. “I think he’s had a hard time,” he agreed. “We can take him down to the river tomorrow and wash him. It doesn’t look like he’s taken care of himself much.” His own words registered in his head, and he froze.

 _We_. Like he and Ten were a team. The thought made him shiver before he realised that, _oh Gods_ , he really was having a civil conversation with Ten right now. That was further than they had ever got in the past.

Ten seemed to register the same thing as he paused for a second before replying. “Seriously, what are you expecting will happen at the end of this?” he asked. “Option one, we find his parents. Let’s be realistic, for a human kid to be alone out here, his parents are either dead or abandoned him.”

He stared Kun dead in the eyes as he continued. “Option two, we find the closest human settlement, take him there and get killed on sight or start a war. Option three, we have to take care of him. You can’t take him with you and I wouldn’t, either, even if I could.”

“I’m well aware, thanks,” Kun said. He exhaled heavily. “But, I-. I don’t know. There’s a week until we need to figure it out. We can have something by then, right?”

How did ‘I’ become ‘we’ in an afternoon? Kun swallowed and refused to look at Ten as he waited for a response. There was none, though, and he sighed before speaking again. “Whatever. Let’s just put the fire out, wash the dishes and go to sleep. You got some extra water before it got dark, right?”

Ten smirked. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Fuck off, I cooked and I have to wash the kid tomorrow. You do the washing up.”

Somehow, just as they had shared dinner, they shared the blankets that night, too. It made sense, Kun told himself as he stared into the darkness, wide awake and very unlikely to fall asleep anytime soon. Ten had used both his and Kun’s blanket earlier when there was still daylight and he was preparing somewhere for Yangyang to sleep. They had discussed that.

They hadn’t quite got to the part where they discussed what their own arrangements would be and, somehow, that had led to one of them on either side of Yangyang.

(“We’re keeping the kid safe. That’s our duty, right?” Ten asked.

Kun swallowed as he laid Yangyang in the centre where the two blankets overlapped. “Right.”)

Unlike humans, elves didn’t easily get cold. They had evolved over thousands of years to be more or less adaptable to whatever the weather threw at them. Sure, Inso elves were better with snow and rain and Aithay with humid heat, but when it came down to it, the elements did not easily kill them.

Not like they would a small, human child.

Kun turned over as he felt a small body shivering behind him. He could not see much in the dark, but Yangyang’s trembling was all too easy to notice. Kun felt around himself for the edge of a blanket so he could push it tighter around Yangyang’s tiny body. A flare of protectiveness ricocheted through his body before he realised what was happening.

_Gods, what was he going to do?_

There was no obvious answer, which became increasingly apparent over the next few days. He and Ten bickered back and forth as they tried to keep Yangyang under control and put together some sort of plan they could work to.

Ten was stubbornly useless. Although he was playing children’s games and cooing bedtime stories to Yangyang by day three, he was adamant that he would not be left responsible for a human child. Kun watched on in despair, praying for some miracle solution to appear in front of his eyes, but none came.

His report was neglected, but he imagined Ten’s had suffered the same fate. Trying to keep Yangyang entertained was a two-elf job at the best of times and impossible at the worst. He swung wildly between running circles around Ten and Kun with bright, bubbly laughter, throwing tantrums on the side of the clearing and refusing to come near either of them as he sniffled like a lost child.

In honesty, that was exactly what Yangyang was. Lost and probably orphaned, too. As more time passed, it became increasingly apparent that no one was looking for him. Otherwise, surely someone would have found them by now. When Yangyang was loud, Kun was sure he must have been audible for several li around their clearing.

It tore Kun up completely. On one hand, he could not wait to get Yangyang off his hands. Being responsible for a young child was so much more exhausting than Kun had ever realised it would be. On the other, he had become attached to the child and knew that letting him go would hurt an awful lot more than he was willing to admit.

Sometimes, he wondered if Ten was thinking the same thing. He frowned often when he was not on active child-care duty, and Kun caught him staring at Yangyang more than a few times.

Almost a week after they had first found Yangyang, Ten sat down across from Kun and cleared his throat.

“We need to talk,” Ten said.

Kun looked up from the dishes he was rinsing and nodded. “Did you get him to sleep all right?”

Scoffing, Ten rolled his eyes and leant back on his hands. “All good. He’s always dead to the world after he’s eaten.”

Kun hummed and looked back to the dishes. They were all clean, but he kept rubbing at them. It was easier to talk when he had something to do with his hands. For the first few days, it had stopped him from lunging for Ten’s throat to throttle him but now it simply stopped him from feeling as awkward.

Perhaps another thing that had taken Kun a long time to realise was how much more relaxed he was becoming around Ten. They were not friends by any means and petty fights still made up half of their conversations, but for the first time, Kun could not use the word mutual hate to describe their relationship.

 _It was happening_ _gradually_ , he thought. He could not watch Ten playing with Yangyang and continue to dislike him.

“I had an idea,” Ten said. He wrung his hands together in front of him with long, slender fingers interlaced in a delicate pattern.

That caught Kun’s attention and his eyes jumped to Ten. “What?”

“You didn’t get your report done, right? There’s literally nothing here to report on,” Ten said. “We can both say we need extensions or something. Or maybe we could say we need to monitor the site. It’s a border region, right? We can justify that easily. That way, we don’t need a solution before tomorrow morning.”

Kun thought about it for a few seconds and nodded. It was not flawless, but he did not have a better idea and did not think he would have any before the next morning, either. Then, the words Ten had used clicked in his mind.

He chewed on his lip. “We?” he repeated, “You’ll help?”

That seemed to catch Ten off-guard. Fingers of firelight caressed his face, casting deep shadows from his nose and the arch of his forehead. “The kid grew on me,” he murmured finally. “I can’t leave him alone when he’s obviously got no family that’s looking for him. Besides, he needs at least one cool adult in his life, because otherwise, he’s just going to be stuck with you making him eat his vegetables.”

Kun rolled his eyes and flicked dishwater in his direction. “Whatever.” He sighed and looked from the reflections in Ten’s eyes. “How’re we going to get the message back, then? We’re both due back in two days and we can’t leave him alone.”

“Already thought of it,” Ten said with a grin, “We go to the closest settlements for our regions and tell them to relay the message. There’s an Aithay city that I can get to and back from again in a day, so you look after the kid that day. Then the other day, I’ll look after the kid and you go to your closest place and do the same.”

Kun wiped his hands off on his shirt and traced his teeth with the tip of his tongue, trying to pull up a map of their area into his mind. As someone who did a lot of on-site reports, it was something he had grown to be good at over the years. But where they were now was in the middle of nowhere for Inso elves.

Right down the bottom of their territory, it was nowhere near any settlements major enough to have an established message relay system. Very few Inso elves could stand the temperatures and environments this far south, and so most their population tended to the north and western areas.

Slowly, he shook his head. “You go tomorrow, then and I’ll watch the kid. For me, the closest place that can relay is at least a day and a half in any directions.”

Ten raised an eyebrow. “You won’t get in trouble if you’re late?”

A spazam passed through Kun’s stomach, and he shook his head. “No, it’ll be okay. In fact, the Capital is just as close. It’ll probably be easier for me to just go back there and report to them instead.”

“And I thought the Inso were supposed to be strict,” Ten said with a dramatic sigh. He lay down flat on the ground, turning his head to the side so he could still watch Kun.

Kun scratched the skin on the back of his hand. “They are, usually. It’s just that there was a lobby a few winters back that threatened to overthrow the ruling dynasty if they didn’t relax some restrictions. There was a rouge group that launched an attack on a border settlement in the far north and the team that wrote the report after they got stuck because of the snow. They started a protest when they got back and found out they had been blacklisted because they were late. They allow two days leeway now, and more if you can make a good case for it.”

“A rogue group?” Ten said, his voice suddenly alert. “I didn’t know that happened.”

“It’s not the kind of stuff that the Aithay have ever indicated they care about knowing,” Kun said, voice dry.

Ten shook his head. “No, I mean, aren’t rogue groups rare? I’ve never heard of one launching an attack and I’m basically in charge of all incident reports…”

“They’re not so rare in the far North, and most of them aren’t aggressive, anyway. It’s close to our major cities, so there are lots of trade opportunities.” Kun scratched the side of his head. “A lot of them are moving south now, I’ve heard, to Aithay-Inso border settlements.”

Ten continued to wear a confused expression. “Shouldn’t the Aithay know about this if they’re moving to the border towns?”

Kun shrugged. “Not really. Most of the groups really keep to themselves. Some bigger border settlements are good for them because they’re big enough to have lots of trade, distant enough that they can live away from the main groups of people if they want to and mostly free of governance from the Aithay and Inso, which is the main reason that most rogue groups go rogue in the first place.”

“Why the hell do you know this?” Ten sighed. He crossed his arms over his chest which looked uncomfortable in his flat position. Kun decided not to comment on it.

“I used to report mainly on rogue groups before they put me onto Elven diplomacy.” His old team had been about as far removed from Inter-Elven Relations as it was possible to get. The only reason they approved his move was because the Inso relationship with Rogue Groups was considerably more stable than with the Aithay or Humans, where they had become increasingly short-staffed. 

Still, Kun missed his old unit. Both the elves in the unit and the rogues he had met through his work. In fact, Kun still had contacts in some Rogue Groups that he would talk to once in a blue moon. They were the source of his knowledge about migration to the border settlements, and half the reason he could tell Ten about it.

Ten sighed and pushed himself up again. “Okay, whatever. I’ll go tomorrow, then, and you go after that. I should sleep so I can get an early start tomorrow. I’ll bring back more food and stuff.”

Before Kun could reply, Ten had disappeared into their little shelter where Yangyang was already fast asleep.

For a long time, Kun stared into the darkness that Ten had disappeared into. A shard of ice had driven itself into Kun’s chest when Ten had left. His stomach was churning, moving like there was something alive in it and he did not know what to make of it. 

Sometimes, it seemed strange how easy it was for them to talk to each other. When they weren’t bickering about petty things, Kun almost did not realise how little he had to think when he was talking to Ten. It came naturally.

He shook his thoughts away and poured the cold, dirty dishwater onto the fire until it hissed and sputtered into silence, a puff of smoke curling into the sky in grey tendrils.

True to his word, Ten was gone by the time Kun woke up the next morning to Yangyang sitting on his chest.

“Kun, I’m hungry,” Yangyang said, petulant, as he bounced a little on Kun’s ribs.

Kun groaned. “You need to get off me if you want me to make you something,” he wheezed. With significant effort, he pushed Yangyang back onto his thighs so he could sit up and brush a hand through his tussled hair and rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Yangyang frowned. “Oats?” he asked haltingly.

“Sorry, buddy, we don’t have any of that,” Kun said, lifting Yangyang off him so he could stand up. “It’s rice congee or soup today.” Like Ten had said the previous night, even after they had combined all their rations, they were quickly running short of rations that could not be sourced from the area around their clearing.

Ten had been a godsend in that area. The Aithay territory was covered in this terrain, and Ten had grown up knowing what could and could not be combined to make nutritious food. Kun was useless when he was not in the northern half of the Inso territory or mountainous areas.

Yangyang pulled a face. “Congee, then,” he agreed. Apparently that was one food that was relatively the same no matter what area of the country you came from or what group you had grown up with. The traditional Inso soups that Kun cooked, meanwhile, had a weird taste as Yangyang had put it.

“Congee it is, then.”

After breakfast, Kun took their dishes and went down to the river to wash them while Yangyang played in the water. (It was one of Kun’s favourite things to do; not only did it keep Yangyang entertained for a bit, it also made sure that he washed, because it was not easy to convince him to do it in any other way).

As Kun filled up the last of the water containers to take back to the camp, he settled back into watching Yangyang play as he bull-shitted a little more of his report to justify having a reason to come back to their little clearing. It was more difficult than it should have been; there was nothing to report. Admittedly, Kun had not looked very hard, but usually, he could find evidence or people to talk to without even having to try. 

“Kun?”

Kun looked up from the paper at Yangyang, who had sat next to him in drenched clothes.

“When is mama coming to get me?”

Trying not to panic, Kun put his report down on his other side and settled an arm around Yangyang’s shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “What do you mean?” he asked, buying time as he attempted to come up with something in his head.

Yangyang’s forehead creased in thought. At least he didn’t burst into tears like he had the first time (and the few subsequent occasions) Ten or Kun had attempted to breach the topic. “Mama left me alone. She said she’d come back, but she didn’t.”

Well, if Kun had any doubt about whether anyone was looking for Yangyang, he certainly didn’t now. “Do you remember when she said that?” he asked. It was better to get as much information now than to have to circle back around to this conversation if he needed more details later, Kun decided.

“There were two nights after she left before you found me,” Yangyang said after a bit. “When she left, there was lots of red on her dress and hair.”

Kun’s entire body went stiff as he processed that. He threaded a hand through Yangyang’s hair in a way that Ten had discovered was a quick and easy way to calm him down, but conveniently relaxed for Kun.

Red. There was no way that was good. Kun betted he knew exactly what that meant and that either Yangyang’s age or his refusal to see what had really happened was the only thing that stood between those words.

He wished Ten was here. He wasn’t always the most sensitive, but at least he might know where to take the conversation. Kun felt like the floor had fallen out from beneath him as he cradled Yangyang to his side and tried to make sure he did not let any emotion spill out that might scare him.

They trudged back to their clearing what felt like years later. Kun’s stomach was heavy, weighed down by so many emotions he was struggling to name them even in his head. Guilt, fear, sadness. It was horrible and made even worse by Yangyang clutching the clean dishes to his chest and barely saying anything.

As with any small child, Kun had watched Yangyang go through every distinct mood under the sky within the last week. This was by far the worst. At least with temper tantrums, Kun could try to calm him down, and sadness he could wipe away his tears.

Yangyang’s apathy lasted throughout the entire afternoon and into the evening. Even when Kun tried to engage him with stories and games, the boy would take part half-heartedly. The whole time, Kun could only wish that Ten was there with them.

He was far better at moving things along. Where Kun always tried to respond to Yangyang’s emotions—a horrible failure at the moment—Ten knew how to push through to a new topic to distract him. Different times called on different strategies, but Kun had not realised how dependent he was on Ten to perform the second.

By the time Ten got in that night, a heavily laden sack tossed over his shoulder, Kun was ready to cry. He had wrapped Yangyang tightly in blankets and cradled his head on his lap.

Ten’s face fell when he saw them. He dumped all the food stocks he had bought by a wall and sat down next to Kun. Without asking, he moved the weight of Yangyang’s body off Kun and onto his own. “What happened?” he asked.

Kun leant his head against the rock face and exhaled. “He told me about his parents,” he murmured. Ten waited, saying nothing, so Kun continued recounting what Yangyang had told him earlier. 

When he finished, Kun drew his legs to his chest and linked his arms around them as he rested his chin on his knees. It would be so much easier if he could just skip back to this morning and pretend this had not happened. While the rational part of him knew that either he or Ten would have needed to talk with Yangyang about his parents at some point, he had not realised how taxing it would be and wished more than anything that he had been slightly better prepared.

It was worse when he realised that he was the adult in the situation. It was Yangyang who had lost his mother and, in all likelihood according to Yangyang’s story, either Kun or Ten’s people had killed her. After all, there was no one else who would kill a human in Elven territory. The fact that it had occurred within the border region just made it a very convenient place.

The cold shock of horror settled onto his shoulders. He turned to Ten like he was made of stone, feeling vomit rising in his throat as he did so.

“She was the skirmish,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and when it snagged on knots, he continued to jerk on them until it hurt.

Ten looked back at him, completely blank.

“His mother,” Kun said, his voice quickly rising in pitch, “There’s nothing here, we both know that. This whole thing we were asked to investigate doesn’t even really exist. Think about it, we’ve seen nothing. There’s no one here like there usually is when we have to write a report. Someone killed his mother and then it got reported as inter-elf conflict and escalated for someone to investigate.”

The blood drained from Ten’s face, and his mouth twitched. “Then it’s lucky that we’re here,” he said, although he sounded far away “Or else the kid would have been abandoned in the forest and who knows what would have happened.”

The mere idea of that made Kun feel even more likely to vomit. As he watched Yangyang, curled up in Ten’s lap, he could only feel nausea hitting him from all directions at the thought of what had happened and the worst-case scenario that, out of pure luck, they had avoided.

_What would have happened if they had not run in Yangyang that day?_

Yangyang would have died, alone and afraid. He and Ten would never have held a conversation that did not comprise of insults. By now, he would be back in the Capital, ignorant of all the paths he would have missed.

A hand rested itself on Kun’s shoulder and he turned to see Ten watching him with calm eyes. “What happened to his parents isn’t our fault,” he said firmly. He squeezed Kun’s shoulder and let go, but the sensation seemed to linger on his skin.

“He would have died,” Kun breathed.

Ten nodded. “But, he didn’t and we won’t let that happen. We’re in this together, right? We’ll protect him from all of that. No elf will harm him if he’s with us.”

Kun forced himself to nod. Ten was right. Putting everything else aside, all the differences that had divided them for as long as they had known each other, he and Ten were a team now. A team that would protect Yangyang. He swallowed.

Sighing, Ten ran a finger over the soft curve of Yangyang’s jaw, still plump with baby fat. “Can I say something?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, continued, “Of all the people I could have done this with, I’m glad it was you.”

Cheeks burning, Kun wrenched his eyes away from Ten. “I’m glad it was you, too,” he admitted. And, it wasn’t even a lie.

Ten was a different person from what Kun had thought he might be. For so many years, they had done reports alongside each other and sat opposite at delegation meetings and he had never known anything about him except that he was Aithay, slightly annoying and strongly opinionated.

All it took was a week to break that down. One, stupid, measly week had taken him from avoiding Ten at all costs to sitting by his side and almost crying. His heart raced at the mere idea and he squeezed a hand into a fist until the nails cut into his palm.

“I’ll talk to Yangyang about it tomorrow,” Ten said. “Will you be going early or having breakfast with us?”

Kun let the tension out of his arm with an exhale. “I’ll go early. It’s a long walk.”

“Take Yangyang and get some sleep, then. I’ll just unpack and then I’ll join.” Ten passed him Yangyang’s floppy body and disappeared out of Kun’s view.

Just as Kun had thought, it took nearly two days to get back to the Capital, even when he was covering ground as quickly as possible. He was grubby, tired and hungry, but the only things he could think about were Yangyang and Ten.

How were they doing? Had they eaten yet? Was Yangyang missing him? It was an endless cycle that he could not escape and made him even more eager to get back again as soon as possible.

As soon as he arrived in the city, he made his way to the Delegations building to make a case for his completely made-up report. By late-afternoon, he had successfully managed a compromise of sorts and was restocking on food before leaving again. All he wanted to do was to see their clearing again.

(When had it become _theirs_?)

As he left the city gates, a familiar voice call his name and Kun had to resist the urge to groan. With a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt, he turned around to find Lucas and Dejun a few steps behind him.

“Kun! Where have you been?” Lucas yelled, running up to him. “What’s wrong? Who kidnapped you? Who do we need to save you from?”

It took all of Kun’s effort not to roll his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said. “I need to get back. There’s a report that’s taking… Longer than planned.”

Dejun narrowed his eyes as he looked at the overfilled bag on Kun’s shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk now,” Kun said, trying not to let the desperate bleed into his tone. “I really need to get going. Seriously, I’ll catch up with you another time, alright?”

Lucas’s large eyes gave Kun a hurt look. “You’ve been gone a week for your delegation and another week for this report, and now you’ve been back for less than half a day and you’re leaving again.” He sounded even more upset than he looked and a shock of guilt hit Kun like an avalanche.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentle, “But I really need to get going. We can catch up for as long as you want when I get back, okay?”

Dejun still had his arms crossed over his chest. “When are you coming back? It looks like you’ve packed enough food for an army,” he said, eyeing the bag.

“It’s…” Kun trailed off, defenceless. He had no way to excuse it and judging by Dejun and Lucas’s expressions of betrayal, it looked as bad as it sounded in his head.

“You’re not writing a report, are you?” Lucas asked after a long moment of silence.

Kun had always been a terrible liar. He knew when he was beaten. Slowly, he shook his head. He could not bring himself to turn and walk away.

There was a frown on Dejun’s face as his eyes flicked between Kun, Lucas and the sky. Finally, he spoke. “It’s almost dark,” he said, “Stay here for the night and leave tomorrow morning. It’s not like you’ll get very far tonight before you’ll be forced to stop, anyway.”

“I-.” Kun cut himself off at the looks he received simultaneously from Dejun and Lucas. He glanced up at the sky and, yes, Dejun was right. It would be dark soon. He declined to mention that he had been planning to walk through the night if that was what it took to get back to Yangyang and Ten as soon as possible. “You can’t tell anyone what I say, alright?”

Dejun and Lucas both broke into grins and nodded as they frogmarched Kun back inside the Inso Capital.

At least he had warned Ten it might take a while.

It was a good decision, Kun decided that night as he spent his first night on a proper bed in almost two weeks. He had forgotten how good it was to spend time with his friends and telling people that he knew he trusted to keep secrets was a relief that he could not put into words.

He had met both Dejun and Lucas in his work in the Rogues unit. They had both remained in that area when Kun had moved into Inter-Elven relations. Sometimes, he missed the work he had done before, although he could not bring himself to regret the move purely because if he had not left, he never would have met Ten and Yangyang.

The next morning, Dejun and Lucas saw him to the gates at the crack of dawn. Dejun pulled him into a tight hug as they stood there, the thinnest of shadows just beginning to appear from a young sun.

“Don’t fall for him too hard,” Dejun said as he pulled away.

Kun blinked at him. “What?”

Lucas shrugged and replied in place of Dejun. “You obviously like this Ten guy. It’s kind of cute to see you so in love, actually.” He giggled as Dejun elbowed him to shut him up.

“He’s Aithay, though. Don’t break your heart over him if he doesn’t like you back,” Dejun interrupted. He put on a sweet smile. “Lucas is right, though. It’s a cute look on you.” Mirth danced in his eyes and Kun could only stare at them both"

“I don’t like Ten like that,” he said. “Seriously, I really don’t.”

Dejun and Lucas exchanged a look that Kun did not want to read into.

“Make sure you tell Yangyang about his cool uncles, okay?” Lucas said. “If I meet him and he doesn’t know who I am, I’ll be forced to throttle someone.” The threat didn’t work so well when he was grinning, but Kun nodded anyway and gave him a quick hug before turning and beginning the long path back to their clearing. As he walked, Dejun and Lucas’s voices grew fainter and fainter.

Perhaps it was the excitement of getting back, but the trip back was quicker than the one to the Capital, even though he was weighed down by a heavy pack of food. As he got closer and closer, Kun’s stomach bubbled in anticipation of seeing Yangyang and Ten again.

Everything he had hoped for was rewarded when he made it to the edge of the clearing. He paused by an enormous tree and, for a short while, stared into the tree circle Kun was almost starting to think of as a second home.

In the centre, Ten and Yangyang were playing with a chasey game. Yangyang’s squeals echoed around, beautiful and bright in the exact way that Kun had not realised he missed so much. Ten, meanwhile, was in the lightest clothes he owned that were all covered in dust as he giggled along with Yangyang’s antics.

Kun could not tear his eyes away from Ten. They lingered on the bounce of his hair, the slope of his nose, the ripple of his muscles. But, more than anything, Kun could not get over how happy he looked with Yangyang. It was a stark difference to where they had been fifteen days ago when this had started and Kun could not help but fall a little in love.

A shudder when through him. _Love_?

“Kun!”

A tiny ball of energy launched itself at Kun’s legs and clung to them like a limpet. “Kun! I missed you so much!” He pushed his face into Kun’s thigh and rubbed his cheek against it. “You can’t leave me again, okay?”

Kun dropped his bag behind him and stooped down to pick Yangyang up and hold him on his hip. “You’ve got it,” he said, letting Yangyang rest his head in the crook of Kun’s neck. “I’ll make sure I don’t leave you anymore, okay?”

He felt Yangyang nod and a soft smile grew on his face.

A few steps away, Ten was watching him with a peculiar look on his face. Kun raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, and grinned.

“Do you want to tell Kun what we did this week?” Ten asks Yangyang over dinner. The bowl he held had slithers of preserved meat in it he had brought back from the Aithay town he visited, and he ate them with relish.

Yangyang frowned at his own, empty bowl. He had sculled his food as quickly as possible but decided he was full when Kun asked him if he wanted any more. Then, he looked up at Kun, beaming. “I decided something!” he announced.

“What’s that?” Kun asked, patiently.

Yangyang’s grin faded a little. “Ten said that Mama isn’t able to come back anymore.” Kun’s stomach dropped, but he caught Ten’s warning eye and kept his mouth firmly shut. “He said she really wants to, but that sometimes people have to go and they can’t keep their promises.”

Wordless and reassuring, Ten ruffled a hand through Yangyang’s short hair.

Yangyang was quiet for a moment; he seemed to think about something, but neither Ten nor Kun moved to disrupt him. “Because Mama is gone like Papa, Ten said that you and he will look after me,” he finally continued, staring into Kun’s eyes. It was like he was seeing right into his soul.

Kun nodded, slowly, not sure of what to say. More than anything else, he felt relieved. Confused, sure. But, most of him was simply happy to see Yangyang talking about his parents without the listless slump he had gone into days ago. _What had Ten said to him to change that?_

“So, I decided,” Yangyang said, “Kun and Ten are my new uncles.” He watched Kun with wide eyes, waiting for a response.

It took a second for Kun to work the sentence through his head. “Okay, that sounds good.” He spoke in careful, measured words to stop himself from treading on any loose ends that he had not spotted. “I’d like to be your uncle.”

Silently, Yangyang put his bowl down on the ground and walked over to sit on Kun’s lap. He wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his little face into Kun’s pointed ear. “I miss Mama,” he whispered, and seemed to add as an afterthought, “and Papa.” There was a small hiccough in Kun’s ear and what felt like the beginning of wet eyes. “But, I’m happy you found me.”

Ten looked at them with an unreadable expression on his face. If Kun had to guess, he would have put it somewhere between fondness and sadness. They were both silent as Yangyang slowly fell asleep in Kun’s hold. As his breathes slowed, Kun sighed and moved Yangyang a little into what he hoped would be a more comfortable position.

 _Uncles, huh?_ Kun could live with that. He could live with that quite happily, in fact. He looked up and found Ten’s eyes.

“When I asked him what we did, I was trying to get at the Elvish,” Ten said with a guilty smile, “I started teaching him the numbers. If he’s really claimed us as his uncles, I figure he should learn at least a bit of the language.”

Kun could not find any words, so he nodded in lieu of them and did his best to ignore the bite of disappointment. He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was disappointed about. All he really knew was that it was impossible for him to wrench his gaze away from Ten. In the few days he had been absent, little had changed, but it felt like he had to make up for all the time he had missed.

“How was your trip?” Ten asked after a lengthy pause.

Jolting out of his reverie, Kun hummed in agreement. “Fine, I guess,” he said with a sigh, “I got an extension until the next moon. After that, they said they would either need to send a team to help finish it or I would have to abandon the report.”

Ten’s mouth flattened into a tight line. “Okay. So, we’ve got most of a cycle to find a new solution,” he summarised, “We can do that.”

Kun looked down at the group and could not stop the words he had been wondering for so long from spilling out of his mouth. “When did it become ‘we?’”

“When Yangyang decided that we’re effectively his new parents,” Ten said. His voice was devoid of any emotional telltales that Kun was just beginning to pick out when combined with visual clues. “We owe it to the kid, don’t we? He’s lost so much and I don’t know how he’d cope with another one.”

“Another one?” Kun repeated. He pressed his nose into Yangyang’s neck and inhaled the scent of slightly dirty human skin. Perhaps they had already spent too much time together; the ‘human’ smell was dull. “You spoke to him about his parents, didn’t you?”

Ten shrugged. “I told him about my family,” he said and hesitated before continuing, “I lost my family when I was young, too. I think it’s easier to talk about when the other one mostly understands what you’ve gone through.”

“I’m sorry.” Kun pulled Yangyang closer to his body.

“It’s not like you would have known.” Ten crossed his legs in front of himself and leant forwards so his elbows were propped on his knees and his chin on his hands. “He barely even remembers his father, he said. Apparently, he was tall and pretty, and he left when Yangyang was still small.”

Kun looked up at him, a heavy weight in his stomach. He hated the way Ten had said that word. “Left?”

Ten frowned at him in return and gave a terse nod. “Kid doesn’t remember. From what he said, though, and the way he remembers his mother talking about him, yeah… I’m pretty sure he died, too."

“Poor kid,” Kun muttered. Yangyang’s weight was suddenly a comfort that he had not fully appreciated before.

Sighing, apparently in agreement, Ten pushed himself up. “I’ll put the fire out,” he said, “But I washed some clothes earlier and I should go collect them before we go to bed.”

“I’ll go tuck Yangyang in.” Careful not to knock Yangyang around, Kun stood and made his way towards their rocky shelter.

“Go to sleep while you’re at it,” Ten called after him. “We’ll deal with the dishes tomorrow.” 

As he walked away, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Kun twisted, his stomach turning uneasily.

Ten offered a simple smile. “For what it’s worth,” he said, and then paused. The smile faded and frown lines appeared between his eyebrows. He tried again. “For what it’s worth, he really missed you the past few days. And I did, too.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he evaded Kun’s eyes in favour of the dark treeline above his head.

Kun’s heart flipped in his chest. “I missed you both, too,” he returned, biting his cheek. He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or to cry.

With a stiff nod and no reply, Ten ducked away. Kun stared at the space where he had been for a second before shaking his head and continuing to their cave.

Perhaps it was to be expected, but neither Ten nor Kun came up with any ingenious plan to work around the deadline that came at them with speed that increased at an exponential rate. It wasn’t helped by the way that Kun and Ten danced around each other like performers at traditional ceremonies.

The whole time, he could not get his conversations with Dejun and Lucas out of his head. What if he was falling for Ten? Scratch that; he had accepted that he had fallen hard and fast by now. The bigger problem was what he was meant to do about it.

With everything in a constant state of precarious uncertainty, there was never a good time to think about it, let alone have a conversation. But, that did not change how Kun felt his chest ache when he saw Yangyang and Ten playing together, or when Ten smiled at him, or when Yangyang tried to construct his first, grammatically backwards sentences in Elvish.

(It was a bit of a mess and reminded Kun a little of when his cousins had been babies and were just learning to speak. That said, Yangyang was suspiciously good at mimicking the correct sounds, which was unusual for how tonally different Standard and Common Elvish were. Ten had laughed and reminded Kun that kids always were good at picking up languages).

Perhaps he was not totally deluded in his suspicions, though. A few days before the new moon was due to arrive, a loud voice tore through the calm of their clearing.

Kun jumped up from where he had been playing a hand-clap game with Yangyang to see two, tall people enter the tree ring. Their light, layered clothes were suspiciously reminiscent of Ten’s. Aithay Elves, then.

A spear of irritation lanced through Kun. Had Ten known about this? Before he could decide whether he should ask, the taller of the two people approached him. With non-judgemental but curious eyes, he looked between Kun and Yangyang.

Kun pushed the kid behind him, trying to keep him out of sight of these intruders. Whatever reason they had for being there, Kun would make sure that Yangyang was kept safe from them.

“Have you seen a short elf around?” the elf asked, taking a step back as if sensing the tension in Kun’s body. He held a hand to his shoulder. “About yay-high, Aithay, usually annoying?”

Eyes narrowing at him, Kun spat out the words. “Ten?”

The elf’s face lit up. “You know him? I’m Kunhang and that’s Sicheng,” he said, jabbing a thumb behind himself at the other elf. “Ten sent a message to the Capital about an extension for a report, but he hates writing report. He’d never ask for an extension for one in a million years, so we thought something might be wrong.”

Any words Kun might have said were knocked out of him. What could he say to that?

With possibly the best timing he had ever had in his life, Ten reappeared with refilled water containers balanced on his arms at that exact moment. There was an awkward moment of silence where he looked from Kun to Yangyang to the two newcomers and back again.

Then, he set the contains down carefully and covered the last few steps in a few seconds. The other elf—Sicheng—also moved in to form a lopsided circle.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ten asked the two, looking utterly stunned. In fact, he looked as hopelessly lost as Kun felt. “How did you even know where I was?”

Sicheng’s gaze flickered over Kun for a second too long.

Something ugly reared its head in Kun’s stomach as he spun around to pick Yangyang up. “I’ll leave you to deal,” he said, his voice harsh even to his own ears, as he walked away.

“Wait-” Ten’s voice mumbled behind him. Kun did not look back. He could sort it out first because Kun was not about to sit there and wait for explanations when he was clearly not wanted. At least not by Sicheng and Kunhang.

Just out of listening distance of the clearing, Kun set Yangyang down and sat on the forest floor. Yangyang sat next to him, looking up at him expectantly.

“Who was that?” he asked when it became Kun would not give him an answer otherwise.

Kun shrugged and brushed a hand across Yangyang’s cheek where a smudge of dirt had somehow settled. “I don’t know. We’re letting Ten talk to them, okay?” It was a struggle to keep his voice void of the irritation that he felt. “How about I teach you the seasons in Elvish? Ten hasn’t taught you those yet, right?”

Shaking his head, Yangyang’s mouth opened a little the way it always did when he was trying hard to pay attention.

Kun nodded and started, letting his mind drift.

He was not entirely sure why he was so annoyed. Judging by Ten’s reaction, he had not known that these elves were coming, either. Still, something about Sicheng’s glance had rubbed Kun the wrong way for no good reason and he was too proud to walk back into that clearing before someone, preferably Ten, came to explain the situation.

Sure enough, it did not take long before familiar footfalls made their way to Yangyang and Kun. Ten’s shoulders were hunched forward as he crouched on the ground next to them.

“Who are they?” Kun asked.

Ten fell back onto his butt. “They’re my friends from the Capital, Sicheng and Kunheng. I think they were worried, so they came looking for me.” He pulled a face and then his expression fell back into a downtrodden, regretful frown. “I swear I didn’t tell anyone about Yangyang or anything when I asked the town to send the relay. I guess they were just in the area and decided to make a day trip.”

“Have you told them now?” Kun asked, not entirely sure what to feel. He could not fairly blame Ten for his friends turning up. In fairness, he hadn’t really done so in the first play. But, the burn of jealousy - _oh, Gods, was that what it was_ \- was fading back as quickly as it had come.

As he let Yangyang climb into his arms, Ten nodded. “It’s difficult to excuse another elf with a kid in a clearing you just bought water to when you were meant to be writing a report on an incident scene.”

This time, Kun could not stop a snort of amusement. The tension drained out of Ten’s shoulders in an instant.

“They’d, uh, like to meet you, and Kunhang offered to cook.” Ten pulled a face and looked very seriously at Yangyang. “Don’t try anything he makes. It’s basically one step removed from poison, even when he has a fully functional kitchen.”

Both Kun and Yangyang nodded. Kun stood and offered a hand to Ten.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said as they walked back.

Half-shrugging, Ten gave him an awkward grin. Yangyang clung to Ten’s back like a starfish, oddly quiet throughout the entire conversation, chose that moment to recite to Ten the new words Kun had taught him.

“Don’t drink it, I’m telling you,” Sicheng muttered as he passed a bowl of dubious, translucent green liquid to Kun. “I can’t promise you’ll live to tell the tale.”

Kunhang pouted at him. “It’s not that bad!” he complained, taking a sip of his own creation. There was a second of silence before he pulled a strained smile and grinned around at the other four in the circle. “You like it, right, Yangyang?”

Yangyang shook his head, pushing himself closer into Ten’s side. He had retreated almost as soon as the soup had dished out and decided Ten was the most suitable shelter right now.

“It’s a special summer soup!” Kunhang moaned in Elvish, louder this time. It was like he needed to brace himself for the next mouthful he took of his own food. A suppressed shudder shook him. Kun met Ten’s eyes for a moment and had to look away again to stop himself from laughing.

Yangyang poked his head out curiously. “Summer?” he repeated.

There was a ripple across the circle. “You’re teaching him Common?” Sicheng asked Kun, curious. He had abandoned his own soup in front of himself without risking a single mouthful.

Kun nodded as Yangyang cycled through all the words and sentences he could remember. “He’s a quick learner.”

Sicheng raised an eyebrow. “He’s got all the right sounds down. That’s pretty impressive for a human kid.”

Kun opened his mouth, ready to defend Yangyang, and then closed it again. He could not exactly argue against that sentence when he had said the same thing himself to Ten only a few days previously. Instead, he offered a smile and nodded.

For his initial, admittedly rash, dislike of them, Sicheng and Kunhang had grown on him remarkably quickly.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on him,” Kunhang laughed. “He even looks like he could be your kid or something. Like he’s got a bit of an elf-y aura, you know? Maybe you’re rubbing off on him.”

Kun coughed awkwardly and looked away. His cheeks were burning, and he did not think he could look at Ten at that moment without embarrassing himself to a level he was not ready to explore. Particularly not in front of these new-comers.

“Are you going to keep teaching him all that elvish and stuff yourself?” Kunhang asked. He looked between Kun and Ten, as Yangyang changed tack and crowded himself into Kun’s lap, hiding his face in Kun’s chest. While Kun had warmed to Sicheng and Kunhang, Yangyang still seemed weary and had not yet stood further than an arm’s length from either Ten or Kun since they had arrived.

Ten shrugged and looked at Kun.

Kun, too, looked at Kunhang blankly. “What do you mean?”

Kunhang suddenly looked a little uncertain. “Like, school…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “He’s a kid, right? Kids need to go to school so they can learn… Stuff…”

“Stuff, yes, that’s descriptive,” Ten drawled, but the snap that usually sat behind his voice was not there. The look he gave Kun was one of uncertainty.

They had never got as far as discussing that. Actually, they still had not made it any further than the looming moon cycle due in only five days. It was a worrying prospect and for all Kun knew they needed to find some solution, he could barely bring himself to think about it out of how much it worried him.

Sicheng picked up on the shift in the mood immediately. “Do you have a plan at all?”

“Well…” Ten gave up on his sentence and traced patterns onto the ground with a finger.

Kun shrugged, too. “It’s a work in progress,” he admitted, trying his best to avoid looking at either of them.

Perhaps it was time to reopen that conversation. He shifted his gaze to Ten and met his eyes. They would have to get there eventually because Kun wasn’t sure what they would end up doing otherwise.

The conversation was dropped as Kunhang started trying to coax Ten into trying some more of his soup.

A little before dusk, Sicheng pulled him into the side of the clearing, away from Ten and Kunhang who were taking it in turns to tickle Yangyang until tears of laughter were dribbling down his cheeks. They were almost ready to get moving again so they could make it back to their check-in point for a nearby river with a boat that would take them back to the Capital.

Sicheng observed Kun with soft, kind eyes as they stood in the outskirts of the circle. His voice was quiet enough that the other three would not have heard them talking, even without Yangyang’s shrieking giggles.

“Don’t hurt him,” he said. The words were so simple, so plain, that Kun looked at him in confusion for a long minute. Sicheng continued, his voice just as calm as before. “I know he’s an idiot sometimes, but he’s sensitive under all the bravado.”

Kun twisted his fingers together. “It’s not like that.” The last word cracked horribly and Kun had to look away. It felt like his body was burning up.

Shrugging, Sicheng took a moment to let Kun wallow in his embarrassment. “I’ve known Ten since we were tiny. He falls hard, fast and obvious every time.” As if it was an afterthought, he tacked on, “It’s not like you’re a closed book, either.”

“It’s really not like that,” Kun tried again. His chest ached at the words. The Gods only knew he wished it was true, but he was not about to spill that to an elf who he had only just met.

A hand fell onto Kun’s shoulder and Sicheng looked at him with eyes that knew a lot more than they let on. “As Ten’s friend, I am asking you not to break his heart. As an observer to this situation for half a day, I’m asking you to work through whatever this is before it gets messy.”

“We’re fine.” The words sounded untrue as soon as Kun had said them. His belly was churning, and his hands were jittery. In a moment of sudden certainty, he looked up at Sicheng. “But, you should know I would never try to hurt him.”

Sicheng nodded. “I know that. Inso elves aren’t the demons they’re made out to be back home. Don’t hurt him, but don’t hurt yourself, either.” Perhaps it was Sicheng’s style to be slightly mysterious and leave things open wherever possible because had walked away again before Kun thought of anything else to say.

He followed him back into the clearing and welcomed Yangyang running to his legs and climbing his body like a tree. With an enormous yawn, Yangyang rested his head on Kun’s shoulder and watched with droopy eyes as Sicheng and Kunhang left.

Ten cast a look at Kun, who nodded, and then followed them out of eyesight into the forest.

With Yangyang still settled in his arms, Kun set about pulling the makings together for dinner. Something filling, he decided, Kunhang’s attempt at lunch had not quite been satisfactory. In the time he had been looking after Yangyang, Kun had become remarkably skilled at doing things one-handed.

Yangyang chattered to him happily about the games he had played with Kunhang before. He seemed a lot more at ease now that the two other elves had gone.

By the time Ten returned with red cheeks and redder eyes, the sun had properly dipped behind the tree line, casting long, dim shadows across their site and Yangyang was dozing. A bright fire crackled in the circle of stone they were using as a make-shift fire pit and made the contrasts even starker.

“They’re gone?” Kun asked.

Ten nodded and pulled Yangyang out of Kun’s arms. “The walk to the river from here isn’t long. Apparently they just dropped in before heading back to the capital.”

“They were local?”

Humming in agreement, Ten sat. “Yeah. Doing some other official mission or something, I don’t know. I’m just going to take their word for it.”

A little water was added to the pot hanging over the fire. “They seem nice. And they liked Yangyang.”

“Who wouldn’t like him?” Ten said, “But they’re actually idiots. Don’t pay attention to anything they said.”

Kun let out a humourless laugh. Was he meant to discard that last conversation with Sicheng, too then? He still had not got around to fully processing what he meant. A part of him did not want to read into it too closely; he refused to be the one to mess up this pseudo-family dynamic they had set up for themselves.

They only had a few days left of it, anyway.

Ten seemed hesitant when he spoke again. “They said some stuff before, though,” he started, and then closed his mouth again as if reconsidering what to say.

“Oh, yeah…” Kun stared at the water, wishing that it would boil so he could dump the food into and have an excuse to avoid a conversation that would inevitably circle around to what would happen in a few days. Just for a little longer. Whenever he thought about that new moon, he felt ill.

As he spoke, Yangyang stirred and snuffled. Slowly, his large eyes opened, and he detached himself from Ten as he stretched his arms above his head.

“Is that food?” he asked, peering at the pot and reaching out his hand to touch the holder that allowed Kun to pull it in and out of the fire..

Kun nodded. “I’ll be ready soon.”

Yangyang nodded, and a slight smile grew on his face. “Can I go play until then?”

“Sure, go have fun,” Ten said, and watched him walk off to a small pile of twigs he had been using on and off to construct some sort of make-believe world that Kun did not have much insight into except for when Yangyang needed an extra set of hands or a person big enough to move the larger branches.

Ten kept his eye fixed on Yangyang as he continued to talk. “They told me that I should tell you something.” His tone was uncharacteristically shy and Kun looked at him, curious.

He hardly dared to believe it. The way he had put it was such a perfect set-up. Ten shuffled a little closer to Kun, and Kun’s chest seized tightly. This did not seem like a conversation about school or the moon. _Was this what he thought it was?_ He hardly dared to hope.

As Ten drew closer, Kun struggled to keep his eyes open. His heart was going crazy in his chest; it was so fast that he felt like he was about to pass out. Ten was close enough that Kun could count his eyelashes, and for a long moment, they were frozen there. Half a hand’s width separated them from each other.

Kun could not wait any longer. Everything else fell out of his head as he leaned forward to close the gap between them. Their lips touched, and that was the end of it. The world could have exploded around them, and Kun probably would not have noticed.

All he could feel was Ten’s lips on his and the delicious, warm weight of love in his chest. He wanted the moment to last forever, immortalised in time. A hand, Ten’s, braced against his shoulder while his own went to brush Ten’s sharp jaw bone.

And then, there was an all-too-familiar squeak from behind them. Ten pulled away as quickly as a flash of lightning. “Oh,” he mumbled.

Kun’s neck was still craned forward, and he could not summon the words to form a sentence.

“I, uh,” Ten had gone very pale as if he was about to faint. “I, oh. _Oh_. I need to go,” he muttered and pushed himself up. In the blink of an eye, he had retreated into the edge of the trees.

Yangyang ran up to Kun with eyes blown as wide as the moon. “What happened?” he demanded, “What was that?” With his hands clenched into fists, he beat Kun’s arm. “Kun! What was that? Mama and Papa used to do that. Do you love Ten? Kun?”

Kun did not answer. That warm crush of what had felt like perfection had been obliterated in a single sentence. It left a cold hollowness in his chest that consumed more and more each passing moment. He would have vomited there if he didn’t have a young child whining at him and swinging off his arm.

“Kun! Tell me!” Yangyang demanded, pulling harder on Kun’s shoulders. “Tell me! Why did you do that? I’ve never seen you and Ten do that before.”

Doing his best to hold back a sob, Kun pulled Yangyang off himself. “Stop it, Yangyang,” he croaked.

That was all it took. In the period that he and Ten had been looking after Yangyang (and, Gods, that hurt to even think), they had never told him something so directly or in such a tone.

The child’s bottom lip quivered, and without warning, he burst into noisy tears. And that was the last thing that Kun was able to deal with. It was just one thing too many.

Numb, Kun muttered soft apologies as he pulled Yangyang towards him and rubbed his back. The tears did not stop, though, and a wet patch slowly soaked itself through Kun’s clothes.

Why had he kissed Ten? An ugly lump rose in Kun’s throat as he fought the urge to scream. All he had to do was resist that damn urge, and he could have avoided this whole situation. Ten had said Sicheng and Kunhang were idiots, why hadn’t he just listened to him and not let Sicheng’s words get to his head?

The rational part of him knew it was unfair to blame it on anyone but himself, but that rational part of him was also completely useless when he had a wailing child in his arms and a mind that was overflowing with a million different thoughts.

Why had he not just held back? It would probably have only been for a few more days, anyway. And then they probably would have been separated, anyway. He could have been content with just Ten and Yangyang with him, love be damned.

And, oh Gods, what was he going to do now? Ten was gone, Yangyang was distraught, and Kun felt like he was about to keel over.

A hissing noise filled the air and Kun looked up to see the pot of water overflowing into the fire below. He wanted to be sick; the last thing on his mind was food. Any appetite he might have worked up before was long gone.

But, for Yangyang’s sake if not his own, Kun had to make something. With shaking fingers, he wrenched the potholder closer to himself so he could add in the rice he had measured out earlier and then pushed it back into the flames. The heat scalded his skin, but Kun could not bring himself to care.

He didn’t even know what he was feeling anymore. Perhaps it was confusion because for a few glorious seconds, he really had thought that he and Ten might have been on the same page. How could he have managed to misread the signs so badly?

As the rice boiled and Yangyang continued to sob in his lap, Kun considered his options. He did not know where Ten had gone, or when he would come back. Yangyang would cry himself into unconsciousness if he didn’t stop soon. The new moon was mere days away.

Perhaps he could get up and leave in the morning. If Ten did not come back, what did Kun have to stay for? He could take Yangyang with him back to the Capital, keep the human hidden inside like a fugitive and work something out from there.

Or, maybe he could claim custody and leave everyone else to get used to it. He would raise Yangyang like his own child and if anyone dared to talk about how he was human, Kun would take them on himself.

But, Kun’s stomach rolled at the thought. What kind of life would a child have, growing up being treated like a criminal? Elves had hated humans for generations; the precarious relationship that the Inso held with them might have been more stable than the Aithay-Human current status, but there was no question that Yangyang would always be treated as an outsider, if not with outright contempt, in the Capital.

He could not take him there in goodwill. He ran a hand through Yangyang’s hair. It had grown long enough now to tangle together in some areas. 

So, perhaps Kun could just stay around here, then. Pack up the site and move just far enough that he was not found by any Inso elves that came looking for him. But then what? Spend the rest of his life living like he was being hunted? Teach Yangyang everything he knew and never let him have any friends his own age? Live as just the two of them for as long as necessary?

That was nearly worse than taking Yangyang to the capital.

The longer it went, the more Kun spiralled downwards. Sure enough, Yangyang wept himself to sleep in Kun’s lap, his shoulders still shuddering even in slumber. And, Kun was left to drown in a spiral of thoughts that became more and more awful.

He wrenched a hand through his hair as tears burned his eyes. And to think for a minute he had the idea that he and Ten could do something together. How could he have been so stupid?

The rice bubbled dry and burnt to the bottom of the pan. It did not matter; Kun could not have eaten if he had wanted to. His body felt like it was made of stone and he would probably have vomited anything he forced down his throat.

Kun did not know how long he sat there. The fire burned down to embers, and the night grew colder and colder, even with Yangyang on his lap. He could not bring himself to move; he just felt empty. Like he had lost almost everything in the space of one kiss.

If there was one, single consolation, it was that the kiss had been good. A moment that Kun could almost have called perfection. If only it had not been smeared with the heavy footsteps of Ten walking away.

At some point, Kun drifted out of awareness. It was not quite sleeping, but he stopped paying attention to the leaves or the fire or the edge of the clearing he prayed he would see Ten reappear through. Yangyang’s weight was no longer moving in his lap, but when Kun stroked a thumb across his cheek, it was sticky with the residue of tears. 

When Ten came back down, though, someone was sitting in front of him. His head hung forward, his legs crossed tightly and his hair was standing up on end as though it had been teased half-to-death.

“I thought you left.” Kun’s voice shook with the effort of getting the words out. The tears he thought he had held back redoubled their efforts in escaping down Kun’s face.

Ten’s entire body shook. “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded like his throat was covered in shards of rock that had rubbed the whole thing raw. “I didn’t mean to leave. I just-,” he caught Kun’s eye and fell silent.

Kun did not fill the quiet. He did not know what to say.

“I freaked out, I’m sorry,” Ten tried. He dropped his head again and looked so pitiful that Kun almost felt sorry for him. “I shouldn’t have left like that.”

Unable to look at him for any longer, Kun had to turn away. “I’m sorry for kissing you,” he said in place of a response and his words shook, “I shouldn’t have done that. It was out of line.”

“No, I-.” Ten cut himself off with a groan of frustration. His eyes flickered between Yangyang and Kun. “Kun, I liked it.”

Any mild function that remained in Kun’s brain short-circuited at those words. “What?”

“I liked it,” Ten repeated. He seemed a little bolder this time and even dared to look Kun in the eyes. “I really like you, Kun.”

Kun picked at the skin around his fingernails. “You can’t just say that,” he croaked. Maybe he was just going crazy because this seemed too far removed from Ten walking away before for it to be true.

With trembling arms, Ten reached out to pull Kun’s hands apart. He held them gently like he did for Yangyang. Neither of them said anything for a long time as Ten rocked their hands back and forth.

As he did so, Kun tried to reign in his heart. It was beating through his chest, doing somersaults in confusion. It was too easy to imagine that he was in some, cosy fantasy of what could have happened if it had not all gone so wrong. But, it could not be; he felt Yangyang’s soft puffs of breath and Ten’s fingers against his own. 

“I didn’t think you would ever like me,” Ten mumbled, still not letting go, “So I freaked out when you kissed me. I thought it might have been an accident or something.”

Kun’s tongue felt like useless rubber in his mouth as he tried to form words. “Ten-. I-. How the fuck could I not like you?” he finally sputtered out. He did not realise how the sentence sounded until it was out in the open and Ten was staring back at him with wide eyes.

“What?” Ten’s expression was one of pure surprise. In the dim glow of embers, the shadows somehow made that even more stark.

Kun shook his head in disbelief. “We’ve raised a kid together for over a moon cycle now and I’ve watched you go from treating him like he was toxic to coddling him with stories every night. How did you expect me not to fall in love?”

“Love,” Ten repeated faintly. “Thank fuck I’m not the only one.”

A slow breath released from between Kun’s lips.

“I’m also glad I’m not the only one who finds the whole parent thing hot,” Ten said after a few moments. A wet version of his signature, impish grin appeared on his face.

Kun stammered. “Shut up. I didn’t say that.” He paused and let out a small sigh. “Maybe I kind of did.” He let go of Ten’s hand and rested his fingers on Yangyang’s shoulders, instead. The slow rise and fall of his chest grounded Kun. 

“You totally did,” Ten agreed. His voice was still a little thick, but the tension had drained away from his body. “But, wait,” he continued, and hesitated a moment, “Will you go on a date with me, then?”

Kun’s stomach swooped through the ground. “You mean we survive this complete mess and you ask for a date? We’ve already got a kid together, and you’re asking for a date? We’re in the middle of nowhere, and you’re asking for a date?” Kun said each sentence slowly, but could not pull back his smile.

In some other time and place, Kun might have been angry, but right now, all he could feel was relief. He wasn’t being abandoned, he hadn’t messed everything up, there was an elf in front of him who might even love him a little bit.

Ten gave Kun a lopsided frown. “Are you saying no?”

“No, nevermind, a date sounds great,” Kun rushed to reply.

Ten nodded once and then giggled. “Good. I agree. We can be creative about what we do.”

Kun made a noise of agreement and then looked skyward, not sure of where to go from there. It was not an awkward atmosphere as much as it was one of the conclusion of a conversation. In an easier setting, he might have walked away from each other to process everything for a bit before they moved onto the next discussion.

Ten carried it easily, though, as he sighed again. “I am sorry for leaving, though. That wasn’t good of me.” Kun had learnt many things about Ten over the time they had spent together, but one of them was that Ten was proud. For him to apologise like that was no small feat and a surge of gratitude flowed through him.

“I’m sorry for kissing you, too,” Kun replied. It was an exact repetition of what he had said before. “I shouldn’t have done that without at least saying something.”

Ten replied with something between a nod and a shrug but did not elaborate. His eyes fell to Yangyang. “Was he alright?” Ten asked quietly. “I heard him crying.”

Kun frowned. “He was upset. I think he thought we were going to leave him.” He ran a hand through Yangyang’s hair and sighed. “He deserves an explanation when he wakes up. He was terrified and confused.”

“We could explain now,” Ten offered.

Shaking his head, Kun looked down at the child. “Let him sleep. He exhausted himself. He’ll respond better in the morning. Besides, we’ll mess up his sleep schedule if we wake him now.”

Ten admitted defeat and folded his arms into his lap. It took a moment before he spoke again. “Then, what about us?”

“What about us?” Kun repeated.

Looking up at the moon, Ten bit his lip before replying. “It’s nearly a new moon. We’ve got days left. What are we going to do then?”

It was the conversation that had always been coming sooner or later, and still, Kun had no more answers than he had done when he had returned from the Capital all those many days ago.

“Can we talk about that tomorrow?” Kun asked. “Let’s just take tonight for us and worry about that when it’s daylight again.”

Ten needed no encouragement. “Fine by me.” A coy look passed over his face. “As long as I get another kiss before we go to sleep tonight.”

“Shameless,” Kun said, refusing to let the erratic beats of his heart betray him at the thought. “Only after we put Yangyang to bed.”

(Yangyang threw his little arms around Ten’s neck and cried when he woke up the next morning. Ten let him, while Kun rubbed gentle circles onto his back to comfort him.

“I can’t promise many things,” Kun murmured, “But I can promise that we’re trying so hard for you, okay? We’ll never leave you behind.”

Ten hummed his agreement into Yangyang’s ear. “Yeah, kid-o. You’re stuck with us now, okay?”

Yangyang sniffled and nodded, before reaching over to Kun and dragging him into the tightest hug that he could manage with two people and a tiny body. Kun’s head was less than a hand’s width away from Ten’s and he relaxed into the embrace. This was his little family. They certainly weren’t perfect, but they were everything Kun needed).

“We can’t keep avoiding it forever,” Ten said, splashing his feet in the stream. It had been two days since that night, and their time was running short than ever.

Kun sat next to him, but with his legs crossed in front of him so he did not get wet. “I know,” he sighed. “But I suppose there’s no better time than the present, right?” He laughed, but it was strained. There had been no stroke-of-genius ideas that had come up to this point, and he wasn’t optimistic that any new ones would come now.

In the background, Yangyang squealed. He was a few steps away, submerged knee-deep in the water as he splashed around and entertained himself with floating branches and leaves.

“Okay, so, any ideas?”

Kun shook his head. “Nope. You?”

Shrugging, Ten lay back on the grassy bank, his legs still over the edge in the stream. “When Sicheng and Kunhang came down, they also updated me from the Capital. They want updates on every tenth day and a result by the next moon cycle or they’ll extract me.”

“Well, that’s great,” Kun said. “I’ve got one day and you’ve got a moon cycle minus all the times you have to go to that town.”

Ten hummed. “Pretty much.” He paused and cast a sidewards look at Kun. “We could always just desert, you know? Just live in the forest until Yangyang’s old enough.” Even as he said it, his mouth was cut in a line of distaste.

“And live without the comfort of a proper stove and bed for the foreseeable future?” Kun snorted. “I think we’d both go insane.”

The water burbled in front of them, and Ten sighed. “I love Yangyang, but I miss my bed.”

Kun’s eyes were locked on Yangyang as he replied. “At least elves are pretty adaptable. How would Yangyang even survive the winter? Humans can’t cope with that stuff without lots of extra clothes.”

There was a moment of silence as they both thought and Kun exhaled in resignation. “Where are we even going to go, then?” he asked, “Yangyang is a human, you’re Aithay and I’m Inso. How many places are there that event remotely suit all three of us?”

Ten shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Well, if we’re going to stick together, we’re both going to have to leave the capitals. Yangyang wouldn’t be able to live in either.”

For a second, a flicker of doubt washed over Kun. “We are in this together, right? You, me and him.”

In a moment of bravery, Ten pushed himself into a seated position and took Kun’s hand. “Of course we are,” he said, but there was a quaver in his own voice as even he seemed to doubt his words.

Kun swallowed and squeezed Ten’s hand. “Even if this—” he gestured between Ten and himself with his free hand “—doesn’t work out, I’d stay with you for Yangyang. For me, Yangyang is more important than anything.”

It was only one part of the truth. Yangyang was Kun’s priority. He was ready to sacrifice anything to make sure that the child had the best upbringing Kun could give him. But, now that he had Ten again, the thought of having to give him up for a second time was like a stab in the heart. For all he would fight tooth and nail for Yangyang, he would do the same for Ten as well.

“Me, too,” Ten said without hesitation. A bashful look crossed his face. “But, I think I’d fight pretty hard for you, too.”

Kun’s cheeks went hot, and he brought Ten’s hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to it. The skin was icy but soft against his lips. Baby steps. They might have lived together for over a moon cycle and already effectively have dual-custody, but Kun was hesitant to make any drastic actions too soon.

Even if he had wanted to, there was not much scope for it. There was no privacy from Yangyang to try anything more than chaste kisses, and Yangyang clung to them like a limpet, anyway. He refused to be more than about five-steps away from at least one of them at any time.

Ten cleared his throat but did not pull his hand free of Kun’s. “Border towns,” he muttered, and then looked up at Kun and repeated louder, “Border towns.”

“Border towns,” Kun said again, and then it clicked. A warmth grew inside him. “ _Border towns._ There are ones with pretty even splits of Aithay and Inso. We could live on the outskirts to make sure Yangyang is safe as a human.”

Ten’s eyes were still massive. “Rogue groups,” he continued, “Kun, you said rogue groups are moving to some of the settlements. Aren’t rouge groups-?”

“Groups made up of both elves and humans, yes, oh my Gods. And it’s so mixed in some settlements they don’t care about human presence,” Kun muttered. “Ten, you’re a genius. I could kiss you.”

That seemed to kick-start Ten into action as he gave Kun a suave smile. “Why don’t you?”

“Yangyang is right there,” Kun said, pointing at the child who had turned to them with round eyes as he observed the scene.

Ten pouted at him. “Later, then.”

“Later,” Kun agreed, feeling his heart speed up a little at the thought.

As if sensing the mood, Yangyang waded towards them and raised his arms for Kun to lift him over the embankment so he didn’t have to climb it. Kun rolled his eyes as he obliged and found himself with a lap full of a wet, squirming child.

The things he sacrificed for love.

“Kun, can I have some more?” Yangyang asked, holding his empty bowl in front of himself with straight arms. A few grains of rice stuck to his chubby cheeks. 

Ever obliging, Kun accepted it and scooped a little more of the congee-style dish into Yangyang’s bowl. He passed it back and smiled at Yangyang as he did so. “So, what do you think?” he asked.

Yangyang frowned at him. “It’s yummy. I like it.”

“No, about moving,” Ten said, “We can find a house to live together. You can have a bedroom all of your own if you want, and there will be other children there who can be your friends.”

Yangyang’s frown deepened. “But, I like it here with Ten and Kun.”

Kun imagined it was hard for him to wrap his mind around. The human world was very different from that of the Elven one and even then, everything he and Ten knew about Yangyang’s past pointed to him having had an uprooted childhood even by human standards.

Ten was patient, though, and nodded. “But, you have to go to school so you can grow up smart. And Kun and I will find new jobs near your school so we can pick you up after school every day. If we live in one of the Settlements, then you’ll be able to try lots of different types of food, too.”

“School...” Yangyang said slowly. He licked his bowl and then looked up at Ten and Kun with enormous eyes. “Only if you stay with me.”

Ten’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at Kun.

“We’ll work something out,” Kun promised, as he bent down to kiss Yangyang’s forehead.

The move was simpler in theory than it was in practice. For one, it meant temporarily breaking their promise to Yangyang that both of them would always be there. Kun had to leave first to do the four-day round trip up to the Capital and back to notify the Delegations centre that he was resigning.

The resignation was a simple decision to make. When he had said he would sacrifice everything for Yangyang and Ten, his job was only a minor part of that. Kun had enough experience behind him that it would not be an issue to find new work once he got to their target border settlement.

While in the city, he reached out to his contacts in the Rogue reports unit to find out what settlements were heavily populated by humans. After a quick visit past his Lucas and Dejun (“I’ll relay a message to you. You should come to visit then.”), and stuffing a few possessions into a large bag he threw over his shoulder, he returned to the clearing.

They swapped and Ten disappeared for a few days, returning with a bag of his own and a smile somewhere between excitement and nerves. Yangyang did not understand object permanence and was jittery for each of the days that Ten was gone. As soon as he appeared through the trees, he threw himself into Ten’s arms.

“You ready?” Ten asked as he held Yangyang to himself tightly.

Kun nodded. He couldn’t have been more ready for it if he had tried.

A part of him was scared, there was no denying. Things were changing so quickly. It felt like he was living on a whim. Two moons ago, he had been content as a delegation member who wrote reports. Now he had the beginnings of a family, no job and no home. He had more than slightly uprooted himself.

But, as they wound the track up to one of the border settlements that Kun had heard had a high population density of humans relative to anywhere else around them, it could not have felt more right. Yangyang waddled between them, holding onto Kun’s right hand and Ten’s left hand. When he got tired, they took it in turns to carry him.

There was no telling exactly what would happen from there, but Kun was sure he was ready to face it. He was still a little scared, but he had Ten and Yangyang by his side. It was funny what living together in a forest with no outside contact could do for your relationships.

Kun certainly would not have expected he would ever end up here.

As they unpacked the meagre possessions they had brought with them into a tiny cottage-like dwelling, recently deserted by an elven family moving up to the Aithay Capital (an elven tradition that had not changed since before the Aithay and Inso were still closely aligned meant living areas were free as long as no one was living there, and Kun had never been more grateful for that in his life), it was anticipation that bubbled in Kun’s stomach.

When it boiled down to it, Kun could not have been more excited about the prospect of what lay ahead of them. They would talk to the local school about when Yangyang should join, find jobs, finish furnishing their tiny house, and play the part of raising Yangyang as best as they could. They were in it for the long-haul, but for once, it did not scare Kun.

With Ten by his side and Yangyang between them, he was ready for any challenges to be thrown their way. 

The smoothness transition made it easier still. Neither he nor Ten had too much difficulty in finding jobs. The school suggested they waited for another five or six moon cycles to enrol Yangyang, and day by day, they filled the walls of their home with little things to make it theirs.

Yangyang’s excitement to have a bed of his own, with a proper mattress and lots of blankets was yet to wear off. Nonetheless, he spent more than a few nights padding over smooth, wooden floors to clamber into the bed that Ten and Kun shared.

(“Well, it’s not like there’s a choice,” Kun, ever pragmatic, had said as he surveyed the built-in furnishing. Although it did not have a mat covering it or the blankets that would make it obvious, there was no denying that it was a bed. It was standard, Elven practice to build as much of the furniture into the foundations of dwelling as possible. It made movement easier when no one had to bring with them. 

Ten smirked. “Guess not. I mean, we’ve basically been sharing a bed for ages now, anyway. All we’ll be missing is Yangyang.”)

Kun groaned as he rolled over when he felt a weight settle next to him. Snuggling down into the warmth under the blankets, Yangyang looked too tired to be aware of what he was doing. He burrowed down and then pushed himself into Kun’s body heat.

He felt himself smile. He would deal with it in the morning. Regardless of whether it was advisable to let Yangyang keep sleeping in their bed, it was not something that Kun was invested in doing anything about at that moment. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

The next morning, Kun woke up to sunlight. It shone through the windows as it always did and next to him, Ten hissed and withdrew beneath the blankets like a mole.

Yangyang was blissfully unaware. His chest rose and fell slowly, just enough to let Kun know that he was nowhere near being awake again. That was fine.

Kun pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and leant against the wall their bed had been built into. For a long time, he just watched the other two until Ten gave up trying to fall asleep again and gave a loud groan as his head reemerged from under the covers.

“Morning,” Kun said, voice rough from sleep.

Ten grunted at him in reply. He slowly blinked himself to awareness, first registering Kun and then Yangyang.

Kun watched him with fond eyes. Each day, he fell a little more in love with him as they slowly worked out each other’s nuances. When he had a comfortable bed at his disposal, for example, Ten was an avid hater of mornings.

It seemed for a second like he might roll over again, but then he sat bolt upright, eyes locked on Yangyang. “First day of school,” he said. His words were lower than usual and slurred by the last remnants of fatigue.

“He’s due at midday,” Kun said, “We’ve got a while yet.”

The tension drained out of Ten’s body and he slumped back against the wall next to Kun. “Thank fuck.”

“Language,” Kun said mildly, gesturing at Yangyang who separated them by the width of his body.

With an unimpressed look, Ten looked between Kun and Yangyang. “He’s asleep. He can’t hear us.” He yawned and stretched his hands above his hand. “Good morning to you, too, though.” He leant sidewards over Yangyang’s body.

Kun obliged without complaint and kissed Ten softly. It was a short, sweet kiss. Almost more of a brush of the lips.

Ten stuck his tongue out when Kun pulled away. “Prude,” he said with a teasing lilt. The more he spoke, the more the morning gravel disappeared.

“Try again when there isn’t a kid in our bed and you don’t have morning breath,” Kun said, rolling his eyes. As he said it, he leant sideways to rest his head on Ten’s shoulder. It was not the most comfortable of positions, but Kun was happy to sit there for a while as they talked in quiet voices and waited for Yangyang to wake up.

Sure enough, Yangyang woke up only a little later. Sleep crusted around his eyes which Ten brushed away with a careful thumb as they all finally admitted defeat and forced themselves out of bed.

Kun let Ten take over the kitchen-duty while he went through the motions of convincing Yangyang to get dressed, brush his hair and wash his face. It was a daily battle that was barely beginning to come easier.

“Are you excited about school today?” Kun asked, kneeling in front of Yangyang and helping him with the fastenings of his shirt.

Yangyang gave him a quick nod. He raised his arms for Kun to pick him up and bring him through to the kitchen.

Kun obliged. “You’re getting big,” he said with a groan as he lifted him, “I won’t be able to do this for much longer if you keep growing!” Yangyang hummed under his breath and linked his arms around Kun’s neck as they walked through to the kitchen.

Ten already had some rice and soup ready to go, plus a brew of something strong enough to forcefully kick some awareness into Kun and Ten. Kun let Yangyang down again and watched him make his way over to the table where he sat down and put his elbows on the top as he waited.

“Thanks,” Kun murmured as he picked up the cup that Ten had made.

Ten smiled at him and raked a hand through his hair that still stood slightly on end. “I brushed my teeth,” he said, as his expression morphed into a smirk.

“Kid’s still in the room,” Kun replied, quiet but amused. He did not protest too much, though, he obliged with another peck.

Ten batted him away. “Oh, Gods, never mind. Your turn to go brush your teeth before coming near me again.”

Kun laughed under his breath as he pulled out bowls into which they added a little rice and soup. As Kun placed them in front of Yangyang, he looked at them with slightly glossy eyes. He took up a spoon and began bringing little bits of rice to his mouth.

“You and Ten have to pick me up today. You promised,” he said stoutly after a moment.

Kun’s stomach did a strange wiggle. “I think that can be arranged, right?” he said, looking at Ten.

Ten nodded. “Of course,” he said and sat down next to Yangyang. “We both made sure that we’d be here today so we could take you there. How could we miss our little Yangyang’s first day of school, huh?” He tapped the top of Yangyang’s nose.

“Papa, I’m not little,” Yangyang complained, dropping his spoon into the bowl with a clatter. He looked at Kun. “Baba said that I’m too big for him to pick me up.”

Kun was still not sure exactly when the names had started, but a glow of warmth filled his chest every time he heard Yangyang call them ‘papa’ or ‘baba.’ He could not keep a smile off his face.

Ten raised an eyebrow at Kun, but his eyes glittered. “Baba’s lying, kid-o. You’ll always be our little baby, right?”

Nodding in agreement, Kun nudged the spoon back into Yangyang’s hand. “But, you’ll have to keep eating if you want to grow up tall, okay?”

Yangyang nodded and scooped rice into his mouth. Under the table, Ten poked Kun with his foot while grinning at him. Kun felt his cheeks go warm but blew a kiss back anyway.

“Stop being gross,” Yangyang whined as he looked between the two of them.

Ten ruffled his hair. “Sorry, kid-o.”

“Can you forgive us?” Kun said, giving Yangyang a slight smile.

Yangyang raised his eyes thoughtfully, as though honestly considering it, and then gave a firm nod. “It’s okay,” he said at long last, “I forgive you because I love you.” The words were nonchalant, but his small face went a little pink as Ten’s hand froze on top of his head.

Kun’s heart skipped a beat. He looked between Ten and Yangyang, his chest so full it was ready to burst. “We love you, too, Yangyang.”

“Yep,” Ten agreed. He pressed a kiss to Yangyang’s crown and then turned to Kun with soft eyes. “You two are my perfect little family.” 

**Author's Note:**

> And then Yangyang went to school and they lived happily ever after. How do I know? Because I very clearly foreshadowed in a few places that one of Yangyang’s parents was not human and therefore he has the ~fancy~ genetics that mean he’s going to live a long and happy life with his parents :D This was included in a scene I drafted... But I couldn't find space to fit it in and make it flow so ,, yeah ,, 
> 
> But, anyway! I hope you enjoyed it <3 Please let me know what you thought because I love to hear from people - it literally makes my day :D


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